


Oil And Vinegar

by DerpLegoshi (orphan_account), SaberGatomon



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M, Private Investigators, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DerpLegoshi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaberGatomon/pseuds/SaberGatomon
Summary: Oil and Vinegar is a offside passion project set outside the Zootopian Canon and the "In Cold Blood Universe".Set in a 1960's Zootopia, a young, yet old-school suave Nick Wilde, is tasked as an Undercover Investigator. Typically his day job is nothing exciting, filing background checks or piles of paperwork, and a divided Zootopia means usually his only clients are carnivores. However, a young, optimistic, and nosy Judy Hopps seeks out the expertise of Nick Wilde to investigate a growing criminal organization, engineering a narcotic by the name of "NightHowlers". Nick, going against his best interests, will tear the division between Carnivores and Herbivores apart by taking on Judy's case. It quickly turns out that Nick and Judy both bit off more than they can chew. Sometimes, things are best left undisturbed, and now Nick is not only caught in a high-profile case tangled with sabotage, seduction, and murder, but also a potential new love interest, and of all things, a bunny.
Relationships: Bonnie Hopps/Stu Hopps, Chief Bogo (Zootopia)/Original Female Character(s), Judy Hopps/Nick Wilde
Kudos: 15





	1. Burning Down The House

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, and welcome to "Oil and Vinegar". For my readers of "In Cold Blood", do not fret, as I am still working on chapter 7, and that story will be updated bi-weekly or so. I decided to write this story as well in the meantime in my downtime as more of a passion project, and experiment with different writing styles, and character development/settings that will help the quality of writing of "In Cold Blood". This is definitely out of my comfort zone, taking a noir styled story with Nick as a 'Private Investigator', and reintroducing him to Judy Hopps in a completely different setting, and decade at that. I'm definitely a sucker for Noir and other similar genres of film and books, and I feel like this would be a fun little side-project where I can write with little to no stress and just have the story flow as I so choose. I hope you guys enjoy this first little chapter. This story will be updated about once every 1-2 weeks like In Cold Blood. Future chapters will release at the same time with each-other. Feel free to check out both works, and Thank you for reading!

"What am I to you, Nick Wilde?"

He remained silent, taking a moment to lean back behind his wooden desk. He had a smirk painted across his face, a sense of playfulness flashing between his eyes as he grabbed the Marlboro back from the ash-tray, taking a smoke before placing it back down. The smoke expelled its way through the room, making it hazy, a faint smog visible from the light hanging overhead the both of them. The wooden floor creaked below Judy's feet as she attempted to hop back up into the obviously carnivore sized client chair. 

The Juxtaposition was obvious. Judy carried a much smaller, slender frame, wearing a red check pencil dress, finished with five buttons on the bottom that seamlessly tied it all together with a red belt in the middle hugging her torso. Nick was wearing a brown Herringbone Suit with a single vent, and two cuff buttons with two on the back trousers. A white and black dotted patterned handkerchief was nearly folded on the front pocket of his suit. The room around them was rather dull, with creaky, disheveled brown wooden floorboards, a Noir screaming atmosphere with bleak brown walls, uncomfortable wooden backed chairs, pitiful lighting creeping its shadows into the corner of the room, with a delipidated wooden desk piled with stacks of yellowed paper, bonded together, with several black fountain pens laying on the side, meticulously ordered by size. 

Nick tapped his feet under the desk, sleek, simile black business shoes that shone with what little light that hung above them overhead. The awkward silence lasted for another moment, as Nick's distinctively emerald colored eyes stared out the window to the street below. He cocked his eyebrow in surprise, noting his client's car, a 1960 Cadillac coupe DeVille, with its signature tailfins, and white and white leather seats. Otherwise, the alleyway below was bleak, with broken glass windows and barbed wire fences lining beside defunct businesses and apartment buildings, a singular flickering street lamp bent at about a 25 degree angle to the side, as if waving to any passerby of the reality of downtown Urban Zootopia. Nick turned back, putting on his signature smirk, momentarily glancing at Judy's passion filled amethyst gaze, that hinted its intimidation. 

"Well, Mrs. Hopps-"

"It's Ms. Hopps, Mr. WIlde." She snapped back in reply with a condescending tone, now putting a smirk across her face, her youthful gaze sending shivers down Nick's spine. He lightly chuckled, breaking the ice, making sure to jot a mental note that this supposed client was rather fiesty. 

"Well, Ms.Hopps, Typically this side of town is reserved specifically for Carnivores, and I only serve-"

"Mr. Wilde, with all due respect, I can ensure you, seeing you were looking at my vehicle out your window, that I have the financial means to pay you enough hush money to do the job. This is a case the normal Z.P.D. won't pick up on, so I'm seeking your help."

"Well, Ms. Hopps, we'll take a look at your record." Nick promptly stated, Judy sliding the vanilla folder across the desk. Nick opened the folder, peering over its contents, nodding his head. 

"Rather impressive, the first female, and herbivore officer of the Z.P.D?"

"Time's are changing Mr. Wilde, you may be a bit old-school, but you're the best in the business. My administration will not authorize me to launch this case-"

"Then that may be a good indication, Ms. Hopps, that it isn't feasible for me alone to attempt it-"

"You know you like the action, Mr. Wilde. I've seen your ads in the Newspapers, you're a suave, attractive fox with a criminal mind that can infiltrate what I'm seeking. Simply put, the file I gave you Mr. Wilde contains the information on the case. Word on the streets have been a new narcotic, by the name on the streets go, 'Nightowlers'-"

"I'll go ahead and let you know Hopps, narcotics are commonplace in populated urban centers, if you didn't learn that from your little Bunny Burrow safe haven-" 

"I am well aware how Zootopia works inside and out, Mr. Wilde. Last time I checked I have more authorization here considering I am an officer. I've already hustled you into this case as it is. The reward is plentiful, we-"

"Oh, you are definitely a bit forward, aren't you, Ms. Hopps? I work alone, my clients pay me, I do their job, we go our separate ways, I prefer not to develop any emotional bonds with my clients, my emotional bond is on the cash they tuck into my suit when all is said and done." 

"Well, Mr. Wilde, I already have it recorded on my pen that you aren't truly a licensed private investigator, and if you want me to use that against you as a warrant for your arrest, I suggest you take the deal."

"Well Carrots, I appreciate the bluff, but you have nothing against me." He snorted at the nickname, a satisfactory grin on his face quickly wiped short as a carrot pen rolled across his desk, tampered with its own recording device that was looping his earlier statement, his ears drooping to his side as he heard his voice repeat. 

_"Ms. Hopps I am not exactly licensed, hence why we are on this seedy part of town. I take the money, do the job, bluff with the cops, and I always get out scott-free"._

"What was that statement about, Mr. Wilde, or should I say, Nick?" The devilish grin plastered across Judy's face at her quick thinking left Nick slumped in his seat as he sighed, feverishly grabbing another cigarette and lighting it, defeated.   
  


"Do I have much of a choice, Ms. Hopps? Most of the time my clients don't hustle me into getting involved in a high-profile case most likely rooted in a mob organization that will end us up getting assassinated in your little cute 1960 DeVille-"

"Call anything mine 'cute' Wilde, and I will submit the evidence against you and arrest you. Get off your high horse, Wilde, whatever you like it or not, we're working together."

"You seem awfully adamant working with me, especially for a little bunny, Hopps. Most rabbits decide to run from me when I dare walk anywhere past specific carnivore zones. What makes you so different, hm?"

"I like making the world a better place Wilde, just turns out as a rabbit I have to be a bit clever on how I achieve my goals. Graduated top of my class, first female officer of the Z.P.D, the first precinct. In terms of how I am offering a big payment, the years back on the farm. You have no choice but to take the deal, but it doesn't have to be difficult. I think we'll get along well as partners."

"'partners'. Heh, you REALLY are forward, aren't you Hopps? Well, I have no choice but to accept your deal. Of course I'm not scared of a little rabbit, but I'll tag you along. You may have some experience-"

"Plenty more than you, Slick."

"Ah, so you enjoy the nickname game too? Doesn't annoy me Hopps, you can use it all you want."

"Oh, I will, gladly. It was a pleasure doing business with you Wilde. To bad I was the one who did all the negotiation."

"My pleasure Carrots, sorry I was forced against my own will to accept a client."

Their meeting was brief, Nick making the gesture, grabbing Judy's much smaller paw and shaking it, Nick yelping in surprise at the rabbit's iron grip as she giggled.

"Awfully strong grip for a rabbit, I must say Carrots, you are an impressive feat."

"Wow, you, giving me a compliment? See, maybe you're a bit less old-school than I thought."

"Don't cut yourself any slack Carrots, we're still doing this investigation the way I always have-"

"Maybe my ideas would help considering we're working together. Obviously you're a bit of a dumb fox for falling so easily to my hustle. Aren't foxes supposed to be the con-artists?"

"You're talking to one that's held onto this business illegally for 10 years, ask away." 

"I'm the smart one, you're the dumb tag-a-long fox."

"So dumb fox, smart bunny then?"

"Definitely talking to you Mr. Wilde, it works out." 

"We'll meet tomorrow, at the same time, and I'd suggest not parking your DeVille somewhere this sketchy. May have it end up getting stolen."

"My name is plenty well known, I don't think they'd try to bother. You do know I took down a whole elephant down by myself, right? Or are you too wound up in your 'work' to read the Newspaper?" She rolled her eyes, glancing to her side at Nick, and for what like a moment, seemed like a momentarily connection, a spark to life. 

"Be my guest, Ms. Hopps, I must of judged you wrongly."

"You aren't the first, Slick. I suggest looking at that file so we can work out the specifics."

"Will do Carrots, maybe you should be in my chair instead?"

"In your dreams, I'm not doing your dirtywork, I'm just here to make the world a better place-"

"With a con-artist fox?"

"Not all con-artists are necessarily bad, Wilde. It just depends on what you choose to do with your position, and you made the right choice. It'll be a pleasure working with you." 

They both exchanged a genuine smile as she trotted out of the door, a bit of a budding friendship now cutting across the ice of the previously tense room. The moment she left, Nick slumped back into his chair, opening the case file, seeing everything was neatly typed out and underlined for him already. Her elegant cursive commentary outlined the specifics of the case, showing a sense of control, and confidence. 

Nick didn't have any idea what he was getting into, but a rabbit cop, and a illegitimate private investigator working together as a team sounded quite simply, like oil and vinegar. 


	2. Silhouette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to "Oil and Vinegar". I am thankful for the early support so far! I do want to note however, 1950's/1960's Zootopia is very different. However, it is an exciting challenge, and I enjoy morphing Zootopia back to a past that dealt with many real world issues. I do want to note, that the opinions of some of these characters in this story, nor their actions or comments reflect my opinion as an author. This is a society faced by division and bigotry, divided between herbivore and carnivore, and this theme will play a role in the story, just like the original Zootopia did. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and until then, stay safe! For my In Cold Blood readers, I have had a setback on finishing the 7th chapter as I am dealing with a bit of motivation to finish it, but it should be out in the next couple of weeks.

_**“I just wanna be somebody.”, Richard Widmark, Night and The City** _

* * *

Bellwether's miniscule frame allowed her to blend in the seas of many other herbivores, without batting an eye. She had green peering eyes that snuck up on any man who would face her, and she carried herself with high esteem, a smug look of confidence painted across her features when nobody was around.

The origin of Bellwether making its way as the closet legal assistant to Mayor Lionheart remained a mystery among her co-workers, especially consider she dressed rather traditional, and didn't have any striking features other than her eyes. Combined with how quiet-spoken and rather clutzy she was, most animals just accepted it as fact, and move on with their day. 

From what few eye witnesses there were, a late night in 1959 would seal the fate of Lionheart's eventual demise. A young female sheep was spotted, wearing red heels and a Trenchoat, treading on the side of the road, her fur soaked by the rain above, stopping to idly lean against a lamp post, seemingly undisturbed. Lionheart that night was travelling from a difficult day of campaigning, starting his push to a more mammal inclusive society for the 1960 Zootopian Mayor election. It was a high-stakes election, a political divide now tearing between herbivores and carnivores alike, a sense of change loomed in the air, trailing behind like the trace of cigarette smoke that sticks around to remind its victim of its toxic presence. Lionheart was initially, a genuinely polite man, pulling over to the side of the road to check on her. Her promiscuous demeanor was unsettling to Lionheart, but her quiet plea, to be taken somewhere for the night pulled her into his vehicle, a signal of lust clinging to the musk of Lionheart's mane. 

Her reason was not exactly clear, nor was she targeting a Lion of all mammals to seduce. She didn't expect the lion to find any more attraction, yet a subtle glance of lust filled eyes was the only indication she needed to make her advancements, a brief glance, a touch, a innuendo here and there was much of their internal dialogue between the ride. Initially Lionheart offered her to stay over at his house for the night to get her back up on her feet, presuming her story of being fired from her job was true. However, it didn't take long to convince him with Bellwether's gaze on the steering wheel to turn right towards a motel just in the outskirts of Zootopia. His black 1952 Bentley R-Type Continental rolled its way into the empty parking lot of the hotel. After Lionheart took a smoke, lighting it with the car's ashtray and a bit of small talk, they made their way out of the car.

They checked into a corner room on the second floor of the motel. The room was nothing special, rather bare-bones. Bellwether cleaned herself off, the steaming water adding to the atmosphere of the room as Lionheart's heart pounded in his chest, his wrinkly suit crinkling nervously against the bed he was laying on as he lit another cigarette. Bellwether re-emerged, yet what she had on wouldn't be considered much. It didn't take much for Lionheart to react. His current wife dug herself into an office job, and intimacy was often the last thing on her menu as she often came home and shut the door behind her, before mumbling incoherent slurs about her co-workers, and smoking a pack of cigarettes before finally falling out from exhaustion, often with her final cigarette still in her right paw, and a bottle of vodka next to some sleeping pills haphazardly spilled across the lush black sheets. 

She approached, and offered a subtle relaxing whisper into Lionheart's ears, flicking at the smoothness of her voice.

"So is this your first time?"

The question hit Lionheart like a brick, and he practically choked while trying to respond.

"First time doing what?"

"Well, what do you think I do for a living? I'm in a bed with you, so there's only around two ways we can go." 

"What do you want in return?" Lionheart snapped out in response of his own shame, as he flicked the ashes of his cigarette beside the bedside ashtray. Bellwether could sense the agitation in his eyes, his trail erratically slapping across the frame of the mattress, accompanied with the smell of tobacco and musk. Bellwether knew she had to lure in him much softer, and she relaxed her gaze, moving a bit further away from Lionheart, giving him space. 

"I didn't mean to be so forward, we don't have to do this if you don't want to-"

"I want to." Bellwether cocked her eyebrow in surprise, shrugging.

"I've never done it with a Lion before, or a predator at that. But I can tell your wife doesn't give you much, does she?"

"How do you know I have a wife?"

"Men like you just do, you're well put together, professional, still young, but you're pent-up. I can feel your frustrations from here, is something wrong?" 

"No, you're right. My wife gives me nothing in return, I sit here campaigning to be this 'progressive' mayor, and I get my door shut in my face 90% of the time when I try to go door to door asking for their vote-"

"I saw some of your policies in the Newspaper, and I think they're great!" She forced some giddiness in her voice, flashing a tight smile at Lionheart as he snorted in response.

"Well, you're willing to deal with me, speaking of that, how much is this gonna cost?"

"Not a dime, honey. You need this really bad, you definitely are pent up. All I just ask-"

"Of course there's always a catch, if you're asking me to do something unethical-"

"Hon, you already are, last time I checked Lionheart. I need a job, and simply put, this isn't cutting it. I've done my fair share of campaigning. I just work by your side, slip in a few written ballots, and you go home with the gold."

"You're providing me a chance to win by playing your dirty games?"

"Aren't politics always undersided, Lionheart? No offense hon, but your policies are too ahead of the time, even for a booming city like Zootopia. The only way you're gonna win is if you make yourself win. The word of a gentlemen is trusted much more than a woman's in politics, you know." She just sneered in response, Lionheart's claws clasping the side of the bedsheets as she contemplated her request.

"It's getting awfully late, Lionheart, and you got a decision to make." Lionheart sighed, undoing his tie as Bellwether glance with a smile. 

"Good, I see you've taken my offer nicely, now let's shut up and enjoy the night, shall we?"

Lionheart didn't eye her, ashamed by his own desires. 

She put her red glasses on the bed-stand next to them, reaching for the bedside lamp, switching it off, the bathroom light still flickering with the door ajar as a heat of seduction entangled them into a night into the fatal flaw of man, temptation. 

Under the covers of the night, Lionheart's yes peered to the voidless ceiling above them as his sweaty fur clung to his bed in panic of the mistake, and the smile painted across her face as she nuzzled into his chest was his confirmation. He had an affair on his wife, and slept with all things, a sheep, an herbivore, as a carnivore. She snuck up on him, and was looking for a position, his assistant for the office. Lionheart wanted to turn over on his side, to just leave, grab his suit, now strewn on the floor and drive away, from everything he just committed, back home to dealing with his hungover wife, pills of aspirin across the bathroom floor, and incense trailing smell of her spicy, powdery-sweet scented Blue Waltz perfume. But yet even then, Lionheart found a sense of strange calmness. He listened keenly to the night outside, completely silent, and for once welcoming. The smell of his wife's perfume didn't sting his nose, it no longer clung to his mane. He sat up onto the side of the bed, Bellwether whining in response as he stretched. He felt himself guide into the bathroom, and he flicked on the light. He gazed at the white subway tile floor, the seafoam green shower tiles and toilet, and for some strange reason, he found himself breathing a sigh of relief.

Lionheart was well aware what he did was wrong. He slept with a woman outside of marriage, picked off on the side of the highway, with unknown intentions, but Lionheart couldn't help but appreciate the silence of the night. Lionheart was tasked with keeping his wife out of public image, any appearances he made, he would make one-side off comments about her being ill, and left it at that. Most of the time, Lionheart would come home in the middle of the night from campaigning, and his wife would be locked in the bathroom all night, throwing fits. And the times that she would greet him at the door, she was berate him, accuse him of being adulterous, and storm off, yelling expletives at him as he would sit down for a cold dinner left on the stove, frozen as and pitiful as their marriage. He would be left behind in the morning as his wife sulked off to work, sweeping the Aspirin off the floor, fixing the mess, and grit his teeth wasting his precious time, before running out in an attempt to gain votes for the mayoral election. Lionheart snapped out his thoughts as he saw the silhouette of Bellwether standing behind him, a look of what he assumed was genuine concern on her face. He just nodded to her, and they headed back to the bed. 

As the morning dawned, the twinkling sunlight through the grimy windows awaking Bellwether, they both remained silent, and on now opposite ends of the bed as Bellwether dressed back into her Trench coat, and Lionheart struggled to smooth the creases of his suit, readjusting his tie against his ruffled mane as he stared into the bathroom mirror, trying to reassure himself everything would be alright. He took one last look of guilt in the mirror, before shunning away from it, growling to himself. 

As Lionheart walked out of the bathroom, an expectant Bellwether was waiting at the door, a smile on her face, as she asked the question.

"So, are you ready to go?"

All Lionheart did was snort in response, slamming the door behind them. In the corner of the motel lot, an exhilarated Nick Wilde took his Beacon 225, pointed the film at Bellwether's miniscule frame holding onto Lionheart as he stares down, and snapped the photo, the flash obscured by the sun in their eyes. Nick jumped back into his vehicle, grasping the latest headline of the front newspaper, feverishly spinning the dial of the Motorola car phone, Nick took the black phone to his ear, waiting for a response on the other end of a line. He heard static, before a disgruntled voice emerged from the other side. Before they could even speak, Nick responded with giddy excitement, smiling ear-to-ear.

"Finnick, I got you a story, and the whole headline-"

"Hol' up Nicky, where the hell did you come from this early in the mornin'? We already printin' out the papers!"

"Trust me Finnick, you'll need to stop the printers for this. We scored big. Think about this, 'Zootopian Mayor Electee caught in scandal with herbivore', imagine the buzz that'd create." Finnick on the other side of the phone spat out his coughing, erupting into laughter.

"Appreciate the joke Nick, but we're running a tight business here, not here for some tabloid-"

"What if I told you I got pictures?"

"Gotta tell me where you at Nicky for me to believe ya'."

"Sitting here at the Rosemary Inn off of Riverbook Lane, seedy part of the Lane, you know the motel that looks like it hasn't been-"

"I know where ya' talkin' about Nick, there ain't no phone down there, how are you even calling?"

"You know I hustle my way around here, Finnick, my name has been in the paper. Telephone company hooked me up with one of these car phones, weighs about eighty pounds, sticks out like hell, but great for breaks like this."

"So ya' tellin me, this Lionheart guy, a carnivore, went out sleepin' with an herbivore?"

"Got it on camera, and 30mm, how much ya' wanna pay for it?"  
  


"Come on Nicky, we've been buds forever! You hustlin' me out of my own cash to print this story hot off the printer?"

"Good breaks don't come cheap, and It's not like I work at the Zootopian Chronicle, Finnick."

"Oh yeah, you doin' that dubious 'private investigator' rig throughout the city, no wonder you want ya' named tied to this. How did you even know where they were in the first place?"

"A magician can't tell his secrets, Finnick."

"You really makin' it in the shade, aren't ya Nick. Fine, won't pick on it, 500 sound good?"

"More than enough, and a good beer will do it for ya, too."

"Only if you get this here in the next thirty minutes, and I know for a fact you're too far outta town to make it in 30, so cut the gas and get going."

"You challenge my ability to drive, Finnick? This car can go fast, you know how good of money I've been makin'."

"Well, if you take it 80 the whole time, maybe, just don't kill yourself, I'd be more worried about those pictures than about ya' tail."

"Fine Fine, bet I can be there in 25, wanna wager?"

"Chances are with ya' Nicky, you'll find a way to get here in twenty, so no. Now hang out the stupid phone before all these useless papers get done printing. Hope your right Nick, haven't had a big break since '53."

"Fine, I'll shut my trap, appreciate the money by the way, could really use it for another project."

"Nicky, we met at juvenile detention, and even then you've been scheming up plans and projects. Hope your photos meet the mark, because if you don't, I'll beat that lazy smile off your face." 

Finnick hung up, Nick chuckling to himself as he turned the ignition to his car, quickly driving out of the parking lot, just as a slightly curious Bellwether caught the glimpse of the crimson red fox.


End file.
